Omnipresent - What Does That Mean?

For those who know me, they've heard this story before but now, I will finish the story. You can read my entire life walk with God in my book "He Lives". For this writing, I'll skim over the beginning of this story.

I was barely 8 years old, when the Lord called me in a loud voice. It happened to be in a tiny insignificant Baptist church in a tiny insignificant town in the very southern tip of Texas.

Hardly a mega-church and hardly a congregation of thousands. This was truly a tiny church for a tiny town and I, at the age of 7 was a part of its beginnings.

The scene was a typical, annual revival set up in a small tent, not 50' away from the church building itself. Thank the Lord it was still spring time or we would have been eaten up by mosquitoes, every night.

Every night for a week, we met in that tiny tent, with wooden folded chairs and sawdust for a floor.

Now, I referred to us as 'good Baptist' because we sat on the very last occupied row. Since my brother and I were the terror of the church, we were separated. My brother on the left side of the aisle with my parents, and myself on the right side with my grand-parents.

Children, in our church were seen and not heard. We were to learn obedience, hold the communion platter for our elders, bow our heads when anyone was praying - and we were to remain quiet. Our people also believed in the age of accountability. In other words, we were not allowed to accept Jesus until age 12 and then of course, expected to immediately do so. Rules were strict with children.

Five nights in a row, we showed up in the tent. Five nights in a row, I brought a small pad and pencil, to keep me occupied.

It wasn't until Friday night, the last night of the revival, that something changed. As usual, at the end of the sermon, the organ began to softly play while the pastor delivered the benediction prayer. It was always expected that when the pastor finished his prayer, anyone wanting to accept the Lord, came down front then.

To further set the scene, my grandfather sat on the aisle seat, my grand-mother next and then me. There was no-one to my right. The same in the row ahead of us.

As the pastor delivered the benediction prayer, instead of me bowing my head and closing my eyes, my head was bowed alright but because I was drawing pictures.

Suddenly there was the loudest voice I had ever heard in my short life. Loud enough that if it had been mortal, the tent would be blown away. Loud and yet gentle. A voice more familiar than my own. It only said, "Judy!"

Something caused my body to react without my knowledge. I stood bolt upright and it happened so suddenly, I was dazed and trying to figure out what had just happened.

I was still standing when my grand-mother became annoyed with me and gave a little jerk to the hem of my skirt, which brought be back to earth. I sat down, thinking that God was mad at me for not being obedient. I have no idea where the pen and pad went, I never saw it again. I squeezed my eyes shut, so tightly I saw stars. I was still confused as to what had just happened.

I no more than sat down and squeezed my eyes when the voice came again. This time it said, "Judy! Come Forth!" I was suddenly standing bolt upright again and just standing in a daze, when my grand-mother showed her disdain by jerking even harder on my skirt.

"Come Forth"?, what did that mean? The only 'come forth' I knew about was what I saw the big people do at the end of a service. I was too young. Everyone would get mad at me. I made my choice to do all I could to obey Him, regardless. I'd rather be in trouble with these people than with God.

So my first action after having just been called out by the Lord, was to tell a lie. I whispered to grand-mother that I had to go to the bathroom. I had to get out in that aisle, regardless of the cost.

Once out in the aisle, I didn't know what to do. The pastor was still praying, the organ playing softly and I froze where I stood, waiting for the next shoe to drop. Everyone said 'Amen', all heads went up and then straight to the aisle, where a child was standing frozen. All eyes were on me.

I looked up at the pastor and he was looking back at me and I started walking. All the way up the aisle, I tried to think of something to say. What was it the big people said?

When I arrived right in front of the pastor, I still hadn't decided so I blurted out,"I tried to be nice to my brother all day but I just couldn't". :)

As though the pastor knew something I didn't, he turned me around and announced, "This is the only one coming, tonight". To this day, I wonder if he knew.

There's more to this story but the important point, is the calling and what the Lord said out loud to me.

As the years past, I continually came back to that memory and drilled the Lord for an answer. What did 'come forth' mean? What was it He wanted me to do. No answers.

Skip forward 50 plus years and you find me driving an 18 wheeler, all over the country. I had been working steadily for 3 years with only 3 days a year at home. I was working to pull a small family out of a financial pit and when I go to work, I go to work.

Driving 10 hours a shift, sleeping for 5 or 6 and pushing on. Back and forth, up and down, across the U.S., that's all I did. I didn't take time off. I didn't want to.

Something strange began to happen. It started when one night, I laid down to sleep and woke up 2 hours later, drowning. That's the only way I can explain it. I could breathe but I wasn't getting oxygen. I practically hung myself upside down to help the congestion out of my lungs and while I choked and coughed and slowly began to move all that fluid out, I gripped at the bedding in panic. It's the same feeling as when you've found yourself too deep in the water and fighting to the surface, running out of air and your lungs begin to burn.

This turned into a nightly scene until I was afraid to lay down at night. After about 2 weeks, I managed to get into a clinic and they gave me antibiotics and a breathing medication. Oh what a relief. I thought I had found the solution.

A week later, the symptoms came back and worse than before. Being out on the road, it's hard to get to a doctor. I simply had to suffer through until I got my chance, again. This time a different clinic in Salt Lake City. This time I was diagnosed with emphysema and a lung infection. Again, different antibiotics and different breathing medication.

I began to feel so much better and was just happy to work but then after a couple months, yet another breathing problem began. I had, what is called, callouses on my vocal chords. They had been there and growing for years but I was always too busy to do anything about it. Now something strange was happening and they grew so big, one on each side, that to breathe I had to bend over and let gravity pull the flaps of tissue out of the way. Breathing in, sucked those two flaps of tissue across my wind pipe, blocking off the air.

I wound up going into day surgery to have them removed. Afterward, I couldn't talk for about 6 weeks but boy could I breathe. It was just pure joy to suck in air, anytime I wanted.

Two weeks after the surgery, I had stopped for the night, was sitting on the edge of the bunk with the little desk drawer pulled out and was using my laptop on the internet. Pressure began building in my chest. You know that pain, when you swallow a potato chip that isn't chewed? That hurts. That was the pain. It was annoying but I tried to ignore it. I only had a few minutes to unwind and get to bed.

The pain intensified until I gave up and closed the laptop to lay down. I thought to myself, "What the heck did you swallow?" then it dawned on me that I had eaten soup for dinner. Uh-oh. No good reason for this pain. Pretty soon it was crushing me and I laid down for relief. It subsided, when I laid down so I decided it was time for sleep.

I woke up a couple hours later, lying on my right side and with excruciating pain all through the upper left quarter of my torso. I rolled over on my back seeking relief but it didn't help. I rolled over onto my left side and it seemed to ease up and I fell asleep.

For the next 3 days, I favored that portion of my body because it felt like a horse had kicked me. It was so sore. I came to the realization that it was my heart and could only apologize to it, saying, "I'm sorry. I understand." After months of struggling for breath and pushing myself to do the job regardless, then I went under anesthesia which is also hard on the heart. No wonder my heart was suffering. I vowed to take better care of it but didn't have time to run to any doctor. I was alive and had work to do.

For a few weeks, I thought I was home free but the original breathing problem came back again. I managed to get into the pulmonary clinic in Denver and they put me through all sorts of breathing tests. I was informed that for someone with emphysema I was still in pretty good shape. I just had to get on a regimen of medications. I could keep working.

One day I was having a particular problem with the breathing and coming out of Denver, headed toward L.A. on I-70, I began to whine at the Lord. This is how that conversation went, "Lord, you KNOW me. I'm the baby that banged her head on the crib because an earache wouldn't let me sleep. I'm the teenager that sat up in the night and fisted my toe after having 10 stitches and it wouldn't stop aching. It's me. Judy! Your brat! Father, You know I will never drag around oxygen at the grocery store. It just will not happen. Father! This is a horrible way to die! I'm asking You for just one favor. Let me know when it's my last day. If there's anything I've learned in the last few weeks, it's how to put an end to this misery. Just let me know, Father. I'll run until it's done."

That's where my head was. Actually, still is. I'm too bull headed to be frail. I'm just not cut out for that. I'd rather not exist at all. When the day comes and I can't climb a tree, give me a loaded gun. That's how much of a brat I am.

I was still wailing at the Lord, when I crossed the border into Utah. I needed a good hard talk with my Father. I pulled off into one of those scenic parking areas, pulled down the on ramp and then onto the shoulder. I got out, locked up the truck and walked down into a ravine, where I couldn't hear the idling truck or the reefer running or the traffic going by. I wanted peace and time with the Lord.

As I walked, the tears began to fall. All I knew was that I was headed for a long, drawn out, miserable way to die and I didn't want to go through that. I wanted to live as long as I could but only as long as I could be strong. Not a weakling, not a vegetable. Not me!

I was blubbering away when all of a sudden one word was whispered into my left ear -"Lazarus!" My knee jerk reaction was to bellow, "Oh yeah?! Maybe that worked for him but You never told me......." Oh wait.....Oh, my God! "You DID!"

My mind was exploding with the news. I began to put 2 and 2 together and realized that, yes, He DID! My tears immediately stopped when I realized that what He was telling me was that He DID call me out of my grave. He just did it years before I'd even know I'd need it. As a matter of fact He WAS talking to the 60 year old Judy but it was the 8 year old Judy that heard it.

It took 3 days for me to stop continually blurting out to the air, "You DID! You DID!"

Then the real mind explosions began. Seeing me through God's eyes. Realizing that when I was conceived, He saw all of me - the 3 year old me, the 8 year old me, the 60 year old me, all at the same time. The beginning, the middle and the end were already in His sight.

Oh wow! And then the realization of how much He loved me. He loved me when I cursed him when I was suffering with grief over a death. He loved me when I married a true son-of-a-bitch. He loved me when I picked up a cigarette. He loved me when I drank a beer. He loved me when I sat on the toilet. He loved me when I danced for Him and He loved me when I was destroying my body. He loved me when I loved Him back and He loved me when I ignored Him.

He LOVES me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! He loves me the way I love my own daughter, and much farther and wider and deeper than I can fathom.

And because He knew when I was born, that I would need to be called out of my grave, He went ahead and did it.

I am alive. Against all odds. The devil has tried to kill me in every possible way, all through my life and I am alive!

So why, I ask you, are you sitting there reading this instead of jumping for joy and yelling out praises?

He loves YOU!!